Under the Apple Tree
by HarmonyLover
Summary: In 1944, Peter makes the life-altering descision to enlist, placing himself in the front lines of the war. His three siblings struggle to hold onto their faith, love, and strength without him. Follows "Still Magnificent."


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of _The Chronicles of Narnia_; it all belongs to the C.S. Lewis estate, Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, 20th Century Fox, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **I saw the _Dawn Treader_ trailer last weekend, and was inspired to post the beginning of my first multi-chapter Narnia story. I've had this for quite a while; this is my second Peter/Lucy story, and it was the other story that kept getting mixed in with _Still Magnificent_ until I managed to separate them. This story takes place two years later. It almost immediately became as much about Peter and Edmund as it did about Peter and Lucy, and maybe the subject matter lends itself to that. The beginning is very deliberately similar, for I wanted to make Peter and Lucy's conversations somewhat parallel. There will be more chapters eventually, I promise, but my time to write is highly restricted right now, so they may be slow in coming.

**Historical Notes:** The draft age for the British Army in World War II was 18, and the Home Guard was a real army organization for those either too old or too young to fight, who were enrolled to do various military duties within the United Kingdom. It is also true that the British government was explicitly trying to avoid underage enlistment, as it had happened on a massive scale in the Great War and killed a great many young adolescents. Unfortunately, I have not been able to find any sort of accurate numbers reflecting how many young men might have somehow worked around the draft rules in World War II (and it's no wonder the figures are lacking; trying to figure that out would be a painstaking archival project and might prove absolutely impossible).

**Acknowledgements:** My heartfelt thank to Almyra for her constant encouragement and wonderful beta reading, and to Elecktrum for the mention of Oreius's training mantra.

**Under the Apple Tree**

_Finchley, 1944_

Twelve-year-old Lucy Pevensie watched as her eldest brother walked outside through the back door of their house in Finchley. He had come home from his first year at university just a few weeks ago, and he was . . . unsettled. Lucy frowned thoughtfully as she looked through the upper story window. She knew that Edmund had observed his older brother's quietness as well. Edmund noticed everything, especially when it came to Peter, but whether he had actually attempted to talk to Peter was anyone's guess. If he had, she hadn't seen it, and in any case Peter was still not himself. He had been happy to be home, as always, but there was some kind of conflict within him that Lucy couldn't put her finger on. She watched a moment longer as Peter reached the apple tree in their backyard and stopped, placing his hand upon it as if wishing it contained a Dryad to speak to and take his mind off his troubles.

She went downstairs, pulling a sweater from the hook in the entrance hall, for it was late afternoon and was growing cooler. She went through the same exit Peter had used and approached him softly. He was sitting with his back against the tree now, eyes closed, running his hands through his hair in frustration and fatigue. Lucy watched him for a moment, suddenly remembering a conversation that had begun in a very similar way two years ago, after he had been with Professor Kirke and she and Edmund had been aboard the _Dawn Treader_. Peter had learned since then, so beautifully, how to be both England's Peter Pevensie and Narnia's High King, following the dictates of his heart and mind that had made him such a beloved monarch in their other country. He still had to be careful, as they all did, not to slip back into the habits and speech that had become so ingrained while they ruled in Narnia, but he had found his balance between the two worlds. Lucy was incredibly proud of him for that; the light that he had seemed to carry with him in Narnia shone just as brightly in England now. It was a different internal conflict that he was feeling, and she hoped that he would talk to her as he had then.

"A Tree for your thoughts, my liege," she said lightly, keeping her voice playful. It was a Narnian expression that they had created, replacing the usual shilling with the silver Tree coins. It had become a bit of a running joke, for not only were Trees considerably larger than shillings, but also Dryads were generally open and cheerful spirits, quite willing to volunteer their thoughts. Having noticed that Peter seemed to be seeking some kind of comfort from the tree behind him, Lucy deliberately used the idiom to tease him and, hopefully, encourage him to talk.

Peter opened his eyes and smiled at his sister, clearly catching her bit of humor. He moved over a bit and gestured for her to sit beside him, which she willingly did, snuggling herself comfortably underneath his arm. He gently began to pet her long hair, smoothing tangles out of it.

"What is it, Peter? You're unhappy," she said gently, looking up at him. "You've been restless since you came home, and as far as I know no one has gotten anything out of you – although I'm willing to bet Edmund has tried."

"He has," Peter answered, his mouth twitching a bit as he thought of his brother's stubbornness. "I'm not going to be able to avoid him forever; he's been watching me like a hawk, and he wasn't too pleased when I asked him to let me be for now."

"I wouldn't think so," Lucy responded, her own mouth curving upward as she imagined Edmund's reaction to that little request. He was off playing cricket this afternoon, or doubtless it would have been him out here trying to get Peter to open up. "Care to try me first, before you get into a row with him?"

Peter sighed again, looking down at his favorite sister with somber eyes. "You aren't going to like this, Lu. I'm not sure I should even tell you, except that you'd find out one way or another."

"Don't you dare try to tell me I'm too young to know, Peter Pevensie," Lucy rebuked him, her eyes as serious as his own. "You of all people know that I'm really not."

Peter nodded in acknowledgement. "I want to enlist, Lu."

The color drained from Lucy's face as she looked at her golden-haired brother. She had been dreading this very thing for years, as the war dragged on with no end in sight. What if it did go on long enough for Peter to be conscripted? It filled her with horror to imagine Peter on a modern battlefield, threatened with bullets, tanks, and mines. She reached out and hugged him fiercely, trying to marshal the arguments she had come up with long ago, arguments which Edmund would doubtless repeat.

"They won't let you," she said, her voice shaking a little. "You're a year too young, Peter; they won't let you."

"You of all people know that I'm really not," he replied, giving her a grim smile. Lucy nodded her head, but her eyes were begging him to take it back, to take away the cold fear that was suddenly flooding her heart. He took her hands, running his thumbs over her own in futile reassurance.

"I could lie to them. Everyone always thinks we're older than we are, anyway, and it isn't hard to change a birth certificate," he said carefully. That Peter would even consider lying told Lucy how seriously he was contemplating this decision; normally he found any sort of deceit incredibly offensive, and he hated having to lie himself for any reason.

It was true. People who met the Pevensie children invariably commented on how grown-up they were, how polite, how intelligent. When new acquaintances tried to guess their ages (at least, their physical ages here in England), they always guessed high. Lucy was usually amused by it, knowing exactly why she and her siblings seemed so much older than they were, but right now that particular game didn't seem funny at all.

"You're already in the Home Guard, Peter, and you've done well. It isn't as though you aren't providing service."

"Service, yes, but I'm not fighting. I'm sick to death of this war. It's been going on for five years, and it really began a year before that. I remember how tense Mum and Dad became, how worried they were every time Dad read the paper. Dad knew, I think, that he would be subject to conscription, and by the time war was declared he had been waiting for it. He knew it was coming, and Mum did, too, though I only really understood that a bit later. I would imagine you hardly remember anything else – at least from our life here," he clarified. Lucy nodded; she didn't remember much before the war, although she had a handful of happy memories from being a very young child. "I could be helping to end all of this awful bloodshed, and I feel ashamed that I'm not. I was a good fighter, Lucy; I could be again."

Lucy laughed, but it was a sound filled with incredulity rather than happiness. When she spoke, all trace of the child was gone from her voice, and Peter suddenly felt as though he was back at Cair Paravel getting some sense talked into him by his grown sister.

"Good? Peter, you and Edmund on a battlefield were ferocious grace personified. Side to side and back to back always, just as Oreius taught you, and nothing in Narnia or out of it could equal the two of you. I simply tried to make sure there weren't too many for the pair of you to handle." The tiniest bit of amusement flickered in her eyes, and Peter smiled just a bit in return. Although she had learned to use a sword once she was old enough to truly fight, Lucy had preferred a bow and two long daggers. The Dwarves had made them for her, long and keen and frighteningly sharp, and she had worn one at either hip. Her slim build plus her lower height had made her a formidable fighter at close range, for she was quick as silver and could often get underneath large creatures in ways that a man or centaur couldn't. Calling her the Valiant had not been misplaced, for she was an excellent combatant and mercilessly intent on protecting her siblings. While she hated to kill anyone, she learned quickly that in an attack, it was either death on the other side or on their own.

"The problem is, it wouldn't be like the battlefields we've known," Lucy said, her face becoming solemn again. "This isn't fighting with sword and shield and armor, it's fighting with guns – and they can kill you much more quickly," she whispered, her arms going around him again. Peter held her tightly, knowing that she needed his comfort just then. "Edmund wouldn't be there with you and neither would I. No second. No backup. No Rhindon. No cordial. It was always awful when we had to fight, Peter, but it's ten times worse to think of sending you off alone, without us and without any sort of protection."

"Do you think it's any easier for me to think of going without you?" Peter asked her tenderly. "Lu, I always felt as safe as it is possible to feel in a battle because Edmund was behind me and you were nearby, and on the rare occasions when Susan came with us and all four of us were there, it always felt as though we would surely win, one way or another. I don't _want_ to be without any of you, and I certainly don't want to fight, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't. This is our country too, and it has been under siege for five very long years. Aslan will watch over me here as well as there."

"I know He will," Lucy said, her voice breaking. "I know He will, if you go fight, but oh, Peter, do you know what it will do to all of us? Mum is already so worried about Dad, and I can't begin to imagine how it will affect Edmund. He'll never forgive himself if anything happens to you. He wouldn't be to blame, of course, but he would blame himself. He'll resent every minute he can't be with you. I wouldn't have my oldest brother, and Su seems to be drifting so far from us. You're the only one who can get her to stay with us anymore. What will we do?" She was dangerously close to tears, Peter saw, and trying desperately to keep her self-control.

Peter turned so that he could get one arm under Lucy's knees. Since the other one was already behind her shoulders, he simply lifted her and settled her onto his lap. He put his arms around her torso and his chin on her shoulder, and when he spoke his voice was indescribably gentle.

"What did you do when I was away in Narnia, dear heart?" he said, and Lucy's tears began to fall. It had been so long since she had heard Aslan's name for her, and to hear her brother use it undid her completely. "You and Edmund and Susan kept each other and Cair Paravel and the country together. You were your usual strong and brave selves, and I was always so proud of all you had done, when I came home."

Lucy nodded, but her voice was choked when she began to speak. "Yes, but Peter, you were never in a situation where we couldn't come after you if we had to. It isn't the same!"

"I know," Peter said quietly. "I know it isn't." He kissed the top of her head, trying in some small way to make her feel better, although he knew that was practically impossible. He had been thinking of this for months, and it wasn't any easier to think of it now than it had been at the beginning. "I haven't definitely decided that I'm going to attempt this, Lu, and even if I do they may not allow it, but I had to consider it. It doesn't seem fair, or right, to let others do the fighting when I'm capable of fighting myself. I feel as though I should be out there, defending our home, just as I was in Narnia. I wouldn't be anyone special, just another soldier in a uniform, but I would be part of the fight."

Lucy shook her head, trying to laugh through her tears. She turned to face Peter, and his throat tightened as he saw her tear-streaked face, though she was smiling sadly now. "To say that you wouldn't be anyone special is like saying the sun wouldn't rise tomorrow. You'll find a way to be extraordinary, in the army or anywhere else, because it's part of who you are. You could never be anything less."

Peter couldn't think of a suitable reply to that; he was always humbled by Lucy's absolute confidence in him, her ability to think the best of him always. Instead he simply hugged her closer, hoping his gratitude showed on his face.

Lucy hugged him back, burying her head in his shoulder. "You're our Peter, our High King always, and no matter what you decide, we will love you," she whispered. "I promise you that, Peter; we will be with you and support you no matter what you choose. Do what your heart tells you." She let go after a long minute, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She stood then and brushed herself off, picking stray bits of grass from her skirt and sweater.

As she stood up, Peter caught sight of Edmund standing in the doorway to the yard, clad in his cricket clothes, his face as still as marble. Locking gazes with his brother, Peter knew this might be one of the hardest conversations they would ever have.

Lucy looked up and caught sight of Peter's expression, following his eyes to where Edmund stood. "I'll leave you two to sort this out," she murmured. "Peter, remember that whatever he says to you, he's mostly just afraid for you."

Peter refocused on his sister and nodded. "I know." Lucy acknowledged his nod and then turned toward the house, walking slowly until she came to Edmund, waiting in the doorway.

"Ed," she said softly, laying her hand on his arm. Edmund glared at her, but Lucy's glance never wavered, her face sympathetic as she looked at him. "Be kind to him. You know him better than anyone; you know he's only trying to do what he feels is right."

"Of course he is," Edmund muttered crossly. "Why does he always have to be so bloody _noble_?"

That got a real smile out of Lucy. "He wouldn't be Peter if he wasn't," she answered. Edmund gave a small snort, and Lucy squeezed his arm before going inside.

Edmund studied his brother as he walked across the lawn; Peter had circles under his eyes and looked weary. He had risen to stand against the apple tree as Lucy left, and his brow was furrowed with anxiety as he watched Edmund approach. When Edmund got close enough to speak, he tossed his cricket bat down next to the tree and faced his older brother squarely.

"Tell me I'm wrong about this, Peter; tell me you're not actually considering trying to enlist," he demanded.

Peter blinked, briefly taken aback, then sighed. Edmund had always been able to read him almost perfectly; there was no reason that should be any different this time. He reached out and put a hand on Edmund's arm.

"I haven't decided anything, Ed, but I've been thinking about it," he responded softly. "It's hard to get away from at university. My classmates and I are the only ones there; all the others are gone, and a good many of the professors are too."

"Of course you've been thinking about it, like the self-sacrificing person you are," Edmund snapped, his tone harsher than when he had spoken to Lucy. "You're a year away from conscription anyway, and you would rather be out there fighting for England and feeling like you were contributing to the war than be waiting here. We always tried to take our army to the battles in Narnia too, and keep them to the borders, because we wanted to spare her land and her citizens as much as possible."

"It was the right thing to do," Peter reminded him. "We kept Narnia from being ravaged several times, Ed. If I can help do that here in England, in our other home, isn't it my obligation to try and enlist?"

"That's why they have a minimum age, Peter," Edmund said, gritting his teeth in frustration. "It _isn't _your obligation; the government has said it isn't. You know your history; they didn't want to lose another quarter of a million underage boys in a war, as they did thirty years ago."

"I said it to Lucy and I'll say it to you: I'm not really underage, Edmund, any more than you are," Peter said soberly.

Edmund took that in for a moment and then gave a stiff nod, his jaw muscles tight.

"There are other ways to fight, Peter," he said, his voice low with repressed anger. "What do you supposed will happen to this family if you are gone? Mum is already exhausted from trying to work enough hours to feed the five of us, we could get word any day that Dad has been injured or killed, Susan seems to have forgotten everything she ever knew in her quest to be a frivolous social leader – and why on earth she would choose that path instead of the one she could have walked is beyond me – and Lucy has managed to keep up her cheerful and brave face for everyone's sake, but she looks to you as she looks to no other for guidance and love, Peter. The happiest she's been this past year is when she has gotten a letter from you. There is plenty of fighting to be done here, if you want a fight, even if it isn't with weapons. You don't have to go off and be a hero!"

Guilt gnawed at Peter as Edmund spoke. Lucy had hinted at this, in her much gentler way, but it was true that their family was just barely holding itself together. His brother had carefully avoided mentioning his own feelings, Peter noticed, but he didn't have to for the point to be driven home.

"I'm not thinking about this because I want to be a hero, Ed," he said resignedly. "Battle is beastly; it always was. I'm thinking about it because I want to help keep my family alive and England free, just as we did in Narnia. What happens if the Germans invade London the way they marched into Paris? You and Mum and the girls can't defend yourselves here, and neither can our other neighbors and friends. It's bad enough that the Germans managed to kill and destroy so many and so much with the bombings; it's a miracle our house is still in one piece. By Aslan, Ed, I want to help rid the world of this evil!"

"As do I!" Edmund hissed, his patience finally giving way. "Not that anyone will believe that coming from the mouth of a fourteen-year-old boy! We're fourteen and seventeen here, Peter, not twenty-four and twenty-seven or any other age, and I hate not being able to fight as much as you do. The worst part of it is, the enlistment office might believe you if you say you're eighteen, and even if they notice the year on your birth certificate, they might allow you in anyway. If they do, you'll go off to fight with a gun instead of a sword, and I won't be with you!" Edmund reached out and gripped his brother's upper arms just below the shoulders, and suddenly the anger on his face gave way to naked, vulnerable fear. Peter felt his heart twist at his younger brother's expression. "Do you hear me, my brother and High King?" he whispered, his voice pleading now. "_I won't be with you_."

Peter could bear that look no longer, and without a word he pulled Edmund to his chest, each of them holding on as though they would never let go. His eyes prickled with tears. There had been times in Narnia when they simply could not be together, and those occasions were always more difficult than any others. Peter knew that Edmund had lived in fear of something happening to him, for he harbored the same fear for Edmund. There had been several instances where one of them had to rescue the other from a potentially fatal, politically dangerous situation, and on the battlefield they had saved each other from death too many times to count.

The incidents that rankled the most, however, were the ones where they had been too late, where one of them had been grievously injured or near death because they had been physically separated. They both suffered recurring nightmares about those events. Peter knew that if he was gone, Edmund's nightmares would return with a vengeance. His own dreams he could endure, but how could he be thinking of inflicting such pain on his brother who, however unfairly, could not come fight with him? How could he cause his family so much worry and fear when it was only his own conscience prodding him to go, when he wasn't obligated to be on the battlefield at all?

_Because it's the right thing to do_, his conscience spoke up. _Because you can no more stand and watch English people die than you could stand and watch Narnians be slaughtered; because you love England and it is your home. Even if Narnia is your true home, even if you love her more than anywhere else, England is also part of you. Will you fail to defend your country in a time of such grave peril?_

_What about keeping my family together?_ argued the other side of his brain. _Lucy and Ed are right; everyone is barely hanging on as it is. Mum is working so hard just to keep everything going while Dad is gone, to keep the house and keep all of us fed. Susan only graces us with her company if I ask her to, and not always then; she seems determined to forget about everything – Narnia, the war, all of it – with all of her parties and beaus and girlfriends. Ed will fight until he hasn't a breath left to keep Lucy and Mum cheerful and hopeful, but he'll eat himself alive over not being with me. Why should I do something that will be so devastating to all of them?_

Peter sighed, still holding Edmund tightly, and buried his face in his brother's hair. It made Peter miserable to think of leaving his favorite sister when she depended on him so. As to leaving Edmund, when he thought of it now, holding the little brother he had protected, fought with, laughed with, wept with, and saved from death, the hollow ache in his chest seemed bottomless.


End file.
